Dushei Eeveelution Tournament
by luclipse
Summary: Imagine a world populated mostly by eevees. Eevees that work in mines, factories and farms only to power the rich region of Dushei. Revolution started the Annual Dushei Eeveelution Tournament, and one eevee will end it...
1. Chapter 1

Hello! this is the prologue for the first pokemon only fic i'm doing, so please go easy on me! i got many of these ideas from a book called 'The Hunger Games' by Suzanne Collins. i am a major fan of the series and hope you will enjoy the prologue and the rest of the story ^^! i plan to update the first chapter very soon, hopefully this weekend! this is also a cross over between pokemon and bleach, but i dont want to spoil anything so you'll have to wait and see! if you're wondering what bleach is it's another very awesome anime that i encourage everyone i know to watch :D!

Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon, Bleach or 'The Hunger Games', no matter how much i would like to! I do own this story though!

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Sinnoh… Tsh… nothing but an island of death. I should know. I've lived here for 16 years. Instead of dying peacefully at an old, hearty age in the comfort of Dushei, men, women and children alike die of starvation, disease and mine explosions. Nothing peaceful about it, except the fact you finally leave a world of horror and madness. The horror of being blasted to pieces while working your paws to dust, stoned to death for swiping a bread for your dying little sister or sent to the Dushei Eeveelution Tournament just for accidentally evolving. There's nothing happy about Sinnoh, the mining region, Jhoto, the factory region, Kanto, the farming region, Isshu, the weapon region, or Hoenn, the powerhouse region. No, nothing happy at all…

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Yes very short but i hope you got hooked onto it ^^! Please read & review! flames are welcome as well!


	2. Chapter 2

hi again ^^! updated finally for Char006! please enjoy and tell me what you think :D!

Disclaimer: i dont own bleach, pokemon or 'The Hunger Games'.

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I pack my leather food bag with a slice of bread for lunch and tuck it in my overall's pocket. I spilt some water into the dirt outside and covered my chest fur and paws as father instructed me when I was little, though now I do it without being told. I finish up the rest of the laundry and hang them up to wait for the warm spring sun to come out and dry them. Father makes breakfast for the two of us, flat cakes. We finish up without uttering a word. Today is not a day for talking.

Slipping on our tattered leather working shoes and patched up jackets we head out the door. The sky is clear blue and the weather promises a strong sun, so ironic in contrast to how joyous this particular day is. After a while of walking I veer onto the path towards the mines as we would usually take, but father puts his paw on the small of my back and directs me towards a less used path. The path to Town Square.

Eevees of all shapes and sizes, in sickness or in health, are already gathering before dawn shows any signs of breaking. None of us want to be here. You can see it in every way. Our posture, facial expressions, the way we huddle close to our dear friends and family, that Chosen Day is a sickening yet mandatory "celebration" every 6th of March. What's worse is the fact that today is also my birthday. Soon father and I near the Town Hall, a moldy old vine-infested building where the Mayor and his family lives and is large enough to sport a living area, conference building and a rarely used courthouse. We take a spot in the center of the growing crowd and wait for the Electrocutes to come and take the makeshift stage of scrap wood and old crates unwillingly taken from unguarded storefronts.

No-one speaks, no-one moves. It's as if everyone is holding their breath, I don't notice it most of the time, but I am. Hours seem to pass as the sun crawls over the Mt. Coronet's tallest peaks. Finally the Mayor, fat and old for as long as anyone can remember, comes out and says the hundred-year-old speech, about how today two very special people will have the pleasure to serve the Capital in a greater way than mining. As the speech instructs the Mayor uses a softer word than slave to describe the work the two unfortunate people must strive to live through. Soon the Electrocutes will come out with the Name Balls and choose two people, a male and a female, to be sent to the Capital Island, Dushei.

"Now, dear citizens of district 1.2b, the time of reaping has come. It is time to bring out…" he pauses and fixes his glasses for dramatic effect. He knows this will make the crowd more nervous, and it does. Oh, the cruelty of him just standing there in his fine clothes while we, the working population of district 1.2, wear our clothes to shreds before considering new ones. The cruelty of his fat and filled belly, while we are half starved and most underweight. He is no humble mayor as he is supposed to be. He is a disgusting old faggot of a Raticate that doesn't deserve to be called an Eevee even by Dushei standards!

"The name balls!" the mayor continues in his raspy voice. The Electrocutes come out onto the stage lifting the name ball on a red, supposedly velvet covered, wooden board. To no one's surprise this year the species of Electrocute that are chosen to carry the name balls is Raichu, two in the front, two in the back. For seven years they have been the favored Electrocute species. Mostly for their ruthlessness when it comes to rule breakers. Try to take a piece of coal home for the night's supper and they'd serve you 20 Thunderbolts for your evening's meal without a second thought.

As the name balls are placed on their separate podiums of decorative boxes, one pink one blue, equip with a gold painted clay holder, my stomach does back flips. What if I'm chosen to go to Dushei? I already have plenty of experience doing hard labor, but what about father? I can't leave him in the state he's in! What if he's picked? I can't stand the thought! Any Eevee over the age of 5 may get chosen. Father has lived exceptionally long for an Eevee around these parts. 32 years. And as any Eevee even 5 years younger than him, he suffers the brutality of old age. No exceptions are made when working in the coalmines, coal being the specialty of district 1.2, unless the Pokémon is on its deathbed. Though I hate to admit it, father is nearly there.

The sound of shuffling paper pierces through my thoughts like the knife that's in my heart. The balls have been spun already and the Mayor is standing before them, closing his eyes and slowly, ever so slowly, mixing his paw into the paper in both clear, plastic spheres, perhaps to pick a name from the bottom. Suddenly he changes his mind and takes two papers from the top. And again, he ever so slowly turns around. He triumphantly raises both papers in the air with a bright smile, at least having the decency not to shake them wildly in the air, as I'm sure he's tempted to do. If the sun were a little higher in the sky I would be able to see the names written carefully on the slips of paper, but then again, the names are always read before then, so it would be a waste of time trying to decipher them.

Bringing his paws down and stepping onto podium meant for the reading he eyes everyone slyly before shouting, "It is time! The time of reading has come! The President of Dushei smiles upon the two names I hold _dearly_ in my paws. So let us begin!"

I creep closer to father, seeking his comfort. Although he is old he has always been exceptionally tall, at least a paw higher than I. I squeeze my eyes shut till I can see stars floating about my eyelids and bite my lower lip. I pray we are not picked, I mumble the prayer, I think the prayer, I try to feel the prayer protecting us. But I can't feel it, because I know, nothing can change what could be waiting.

"And the male is!"

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yes, leaving it a cliffhanger ;P! I hope you don't think too badly of me but this was the only place I could stop at unless I made it a 7 page monster, which I'm sure you would've liked :P! anyway read and review and I'm really not sure when I'll be updating again, so sorry in advance if it takes a while :S!

Nikkibe


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